Magic Beans
by Biancaneve
Summary: In the aftermath of episode 2.10 Walkabout , a well-known story is told around the outlaws' campfire. Banter, reflection, and a smidgen of Will/Djaq.


The last of the supper was eaten, and the conversation turned from sleepwalking, to goats, to the utility and practicality of keeping farm animals in the forest (Much lost that argument), to the hilarious sight of a beggar dressed in the Sheriff's pyjamas, to expressions of regret that they hadn't bought them from him to be used in some future humiliating revenge.

At length, Djaq remembered a mystery that had been forgotten in the hectic events of the day. "So, tell me about the magic beans."

"Eh?" The four men blinked in surprise, their comprehension dulled by weariness, food, ale and the warmth of the fire.

"Magic beans," she repeated. "What John was saying earlier, before Allan showed up. I did not understand." In fact, she was just as curious about the golden eggs, but she didn't want to remind Much of the goose's disappearance, which had already been bitterly lamented.

"Ohhh," Much remembered. "It's a children's story." The others nodded, signifying that they too had grown up on the tale.

"So, tell me."

Her companions were not entirely sure this was a proper topic for fierce fighting men, but encouraged by Djaq's matter-of-fact tone, Will began. "Well, once there was a poor boy called Jack, who-"

"He was called Djaq?" Djaq interrupted, amused.

"Well, most boys are," Much pointed out, then realised he was starting to get confused. "No, no, I mean, most Jacks are boys..."

Robin came to his aid. "It's spelt differently to yours, though, Djaq."

"Oh, he could read and write then, this Djaq?"

"Errm, probably not," Robin conceded. Most outside the nobility could not; Much and John were illiterate, and it was only through the offices of a parish priest with a pioneering instinct that Will had learned his letters. Not surprisingly, the man had disagreed vehemently with the new Sheriff, and had been ousted from his office before even Luke was old enough to learn.

"Okay," he went on. "There was a poor boy called Jack, or Djaq, it's not important. He lived with his mother. One day their cow stopped giving milk, so Jack's mother sent him to market to sell it."

"The version I heard," Will put in quietly, "the cow didn't stop giving milk."

"Does it matter?" Much asked, exasperated at the way they didn't seem able to get through a single sentence of the story without interruptions.

"Well, yeah, actually," Will pointed out, staring fixedly into the dying embers of the fire. "If the cow was still a milker, then selling it means they were really, really poor. Selling an animal that can still give you food every day, it's admitting you're desperate. It's... the last step." His friends noticed the shadow that crossed his face as he remembered that it wasn't really the last step; there was one more, across a threshhold from which there was no coming back.

Biting his lip, Much hurriedly went on, "Well, anyway, they needed to sell the cow, and Jack took her to market. But on the way he met a strange man, who offered to exchange the cow for five magic beans. Jack thought this seemed like a pretty good bargain, so he agreed, and went happily home to show the beans to his mother."

"Who wasn't impressed," Robin cut in. "She threw them out the window."

"You fool! How could I have raised you to be so stupid!" Much imitated the nagging tones of an angry mother surprisingly well for a foundling, perhaps because he had had a lot of practice.

"Jack was sent to bed without any supper," Robin said, "but the next morning he woke up to find that the beans had sprouted a great green stalk that reached all the way up into the clouds."

"He climbed, up and up and up and up and-"

"Up, yes, we get it, Much. When he reached the top, he found himself at the bottom of a path leading towards an enormous house. The front doorstep was nearly as tall as him, but he scrambled over it and went inside." Robin had forgotten his initial disdain for the topic, in the pleasure of making use of his feted talent with words. "There he found what could only be the home of a giant! The ceilings were higher than that tree over there, and all the furniture was huge. He explored the house for hours, and in a little room near the top, he found a jar full of gold coins."

"Were they normal-sized coins, or giant coins?" Djaq asked, her scientific mind picking out at once the missing detail.

"Um, I don't know," Robin said thoughtfully. "Giant ones, probably. And just as he grabbed the jar – it was the size of a barrel for him – and started to make his way out, he heard a great loud voice yelling-"

"FEE FI FO FUM! I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISHMAN!"

The outlaws burst out laughing at John's well-timed interjection. He had been quieter than usual all evening, but the boom of his deep voice could not have been more perfect for the part of the giant.

Wiping her eyes, Djaq said, "You know, I really doubt it was the Englishman's _blood_ the giant could smell." She looked pointedly at the nearest pair of feet, which happened to belong to Will.

"Hey!" He nudged her with his shoulder, the theatrical pathos in his eyes concealing the fact that he actually was a little hurt.

"Sorry," she shrugged, "But it's true!"

"Anyway, John, say the rest of it," Much commanded.

"BE HE ALIVE OR BE HE DEAD, I'LL GRIND HIS BONES TO MAKE MY BREAD!"

"Thankyou. The house started to shake as the giant stomped crashed around, looking for Jack. Luckily, it was the giant's wife who found him first. She took pity on him, and smuggled him out of the house."

"Under her shirt, the way I heard. Lucky Jack..." Robin and Much laughed at John's version of the tale, but Will was quiet, his mind inexorably drawn to the thought of someone else with a great talent for getting around wives. He had never thought to shake his hand again. Something had changed, but then as the soldiers retreated, he had left Nottingham without saying anything more.

Oblivious to their young companion's reflections, Much took up the narrative. "He slid quickly down the beanstalk and showed the coins to his mother, who was much more pleased with him this time."

He added in an undertone to Robin, "Nothing like something shiny to win a woman's heart..." Robin grinned at the allusion to a subject close to his heart, as his best friend continued.

"There was enough gold to keep them fed for years, perhaps forever, so Jack's mother was ecstatic, as you can imagine, and cooked a great feast of lamb and beef and pig, and goose, and peacock, and-"

"Much!"

"Sorry. Well, the next day Jack climbed up the beanstalk again."

"Why?" Djaq asked.

"Because he was a foolhardy young man, too much given to taking unneccessary risks," Much answered with a pointed look towards his old master. "This time, he explored outside the house, and in a shed he found a goose that laid eggs of pure gold."

His voice grew wistful, and Djaq winced. Damn. She hadn't realised that even the beans led back to the goose in the end. As Much dropped into a mournful reverie, Robin took over again.

"Once again, the giant smelled Jack, and once again, he managed to escape in the nick of time. He took the goose home and showed his mother. She was thrilled – now they could keep all their friends and neighbours out of poverty forever."

"I don't remember there being anything about helping their friends and neighbours, actually," said Much, and John and Will shook their heads.

"Well, there should have been," Robin pointed out, unrepentant as ever about bending the rules in the interests of justice. The others shrugged their agreement.

"On the third day, Jack climbed up the beanstalk again. But this time he had only just crept through the door of the house when he spotted the giant standing there, waiting for him. He turned and ran, but the monster was right behind him, and as he reached the beanstalk and began to climb down, he realised that the giant was following him."

"Jack scrambled down the green stem so fast he almost fell, terrified to think that he had led the giant to his village. Unless he could stop him, they would all be turned into bone-meal-flour!"

Whether in the Council of Nobles or around his own campfire, Robin certainly had a way of making people sit up and listen. The others were all on edge, waiting to hear the end, even though three of them knew perfectly well what was going to happen.

"When he got to the bottom, he knew what he had to do. He pulled out his axe and began hacking away at the vine. It was thick and tough, but Jack was desperate to save his friends from a horrible fate. As the giant's feet began to appear beneath the clouds, the beanstalk finally gave way, and the giant came crashing to the ground, falling to his death. The village was safe."

Much breathed an audible sigh of relief. Djaq was silent for a moment, trying to fit everything into place.

"So, it is the story of a boy who grew up hungry, and went on to become a great hero, who defeated a terrible monster and saved many people, armed only with an axe?" she said pensively, turning to look at the young man sitting quietly beside her. His blank expression slowly gave way to one of even greater bewilderment, and he rapidly ducked his head and became absorbed in the task of poking at the fire.

A grinning Robin stood up and stretched. "Well, my friends, I am going to bed." The others, too, made their way towards their bunks, save for Will, who stayed by the fire, now with yet another confusing moment to add to the day's tally. As the word "hero" repeated itself over and over in his mind, the voice that had spoken it asked one last question.

"What happened to Jack, in the end?"

"The story doesn't really say," Robin answered. "He went home and lived with his mother, I suppose. Come to think of it, it's one of the few stories where the hero _doesn't_ fall in love with a beautiful girl and get married in the end."

"Very strange," Djaq said quietly, sliding her blanket around her shoulders.

"Oh, save it for the bees," Much muttered. He resented being forced to listen to what he took for coded lovers' banter, not realising that the youngsters of the group were keeping their secret not only from their friends, but also from each other and even themselves.

"Bees?" asked Djaq, lost. "Is that another fairy story?"

"No." John's voice brooked no argument, especially when they had so recently heard it threatening to grind people's bones. "Good night, everyone," he said pointedly.

"Goodnight."


End file.
